Sunday, February 8, 2015

Marched to Death

On June 17, 1863, the Army of the
Potomac’s 5th Corps trudged along a dusty road that connected
Centreville to a small village called Gum Springs (modern-day Arcola). It was a tough march, one that lasted twelve
hours. That day, the 5th Corps started out in Manassas Junction.
Thus, it covered seventeen miles. Balmy weather slowed the pace of the march and the soldiers
suffered intensely under the penetrating rays of the sun. One of the
participants, Captain Francis Adams Donaldson, wrote, “We suffered dreadfully
on the march to this place for water and the intense heat. We have lost a dozen
men or more in the brigade from sun stroke, and yesterday Lt. Col. Gleason of
the 25th New York was overcome and died from the sun’s effect, and
as soon as we halted, was buried in a little church yard hard by.”

Donaldson’s account is typical. Without
fail, the 5th Corps soldiers who wrote about the June 17 hike mentioned the
corps’ most famous sunstroke casualty, Lieutenant Colonel Shepard Gleason, age
twenty-five. No doubt, it was shocking for them to learn that a regimental commander might die from
heat exhaustion. Unlike the enlisted men, Gleason rode his horse and did
not have to burden himself with a rifle or tenting equipment. Yet, even that
did not save him from death—testament to the intensity of the heat
endured on that awful day.

Even more amazing is the fact that
Gleason was only nine days short of mustering out. The 25th New York
was a two-year regiment. It had left New York City in the summer of 1861 under
the promise that it would muster out on June 26, 1863. Recently, the regiment
had been lightly engaged at Chancellorsville, but that proved to be its last battle. Probably,
the New Yorkers expected to wait out the remainder of their service while in bivouac,
but Maj. Gen. Joseph Hooker’s pursuit of the Army of Northern Virginia during
the second week of June roused the defeated bluecoats from their encampments along the Rappahannock River. The entire army—all 90,000 of them—went ahead with a
series of exhausting marches during one of the hottest weeks of the year. That
urgency—the need to move quickly after the fall of the Union garrison at
Winchester—killed Gleason, and it did so as his enlistment was about to expire.

What baffles me most is the fact
that no one made any effort to transport Gleason’s remains back to his home in
Rochester. Logic dictated that the regiment could have easily boxed up his corpse and
shipped it north. Members of the regiment knew that the army did not intend
for the 25th New York to participate in the remainder of the grueling campaign, chasing the Confederates into
Pennsylvania. In fact, the order detaching the 25th New York arrived
on June 20, three days after Gleason perished. At first, the officers in his
brigade considered packaging Gleason’s body, but then decided against it.
Writing to the New York Herald, one
soldier explained: “In my last letter I mentioned the death of Lieut. Col.
Gleason from sunstroke. It had then been arranged to send his remains home; but
subsequently it was decided to bury him in this place, and his remains now lie
in the graveyard of the old church here.”

The day after the corps arrived at Gum
Springs, Maj. Gen. George Sykes issued orders to halt and not resume the march
until June 19, when the weather cooled. Amid a terrible rainstorm, the soldiers of the 25th
New York formed up to say goodbye to their fallen commander. So continued the
soldier who wrote to the Herald, “His
burial was an impressive scene: for no more gallant, efficient and popular
officer was ever in this corps. Although raining violently, there was a large
attendance of officers, besides the entire regiment, attended by the Second
United States infantry band. . . . The deceased,. . . by his talents, which were of a high
and brilliant order, and his gallantry, shown in every action, rose to the
position he held at the time of his decease. Excepting at Shepherdstown, he
took part in every battle in which this army has participated. His name and
services, high accomplishments and courtesy will ever remain green in the
memory of his old comrades in arms.”

Eulogistic words from the nineteenth-century
often brushed over the complexity of a person’s personality, but it is safe to
say that Gleason was a popular officer. Few others could boast so meteoric a
rise. Back in 1861, Gleason enlisted as a private in the 13th
New York Infantry. In October, he transferred to the 25th New York,
mustering in as a second lieutenant in Company K. His promotion to lieutenant
colonel came on May 9, a few days after his regiment returned from
the Chancellorsville battlefield. Thus, he rose from private to lieutenant colonel in less than
two years. On June 26, an alumnus from Rochester Collegiate Institute, Robert
Wilson, wrote to his favorite professor, informing him of Gleason’s death:

My dear professor:

You will, of course, remember Mr. Gleason who was a member of
your class in 1856, when we were reading Cicero. Yesterday’s paper has the
announcement of his death from exhaustion or from sun stroke during the late
march of his regiment, the 25th N. Y. V. His death was sudden and quite
unexpected by his fellow soldiers. He was found dead on the morning of last
Thursday. I saw the Colonel under whom he served (Johnson) and he seemed much
affected by the death of one for whom his fellow officers and men entertained
so much respect and esteem. I have spoken to several of the officers and men of
his regiment, and they all, without exception, speak in terms of unbounded
praise, not only of the brilliancy and efficiency as an officer, but speak of
him also as a true man and courteous gentleman. One of them said to me to-day,
that had Mr. Gleason lived, he must certainly have risen to a position of
eminence; for in him were displayed those rare qualities of mind, temper and
manner, which go to make up the chivalrous soldier and the able officer.

When I learned two
years ago that he had enlisted as a private in the old 13th Regiment of
Rochester, I could not but feel sad, while I volunteered the prediction that he
would not be long in the ranks. I was not disappointed. His talents raised him
through all the grades of Sergeant, Lieutenant, Captain, Major, till, at his
death he held the responsible and honorable position of Lieut. Colonel. I am
told also that only his modesty forbid him from going another step higher,
having refused the position of Colonel but a few weeks since.

I like to remember and
keep track of the old members of the Collegiate, and I always consider it a
treat when I see one. Among them all there is not one for whom my respect and
affection is more profoundly sincere than for Shepherd Gleason [sic]. During
our acquaintance in Rochester as fellow students I loved to admire the many
noble qualities of his nature, and have always felt proud in being a sharer in
his courteous and generous friendship. I feel that in his decease the United
States army has lost one of its best officers and the community one of its best
citizens.

Sed ne longum sit
[Latin for, “Indeed, let me speak briefly.”]: You will pardon me if I have taken
too much of your attention with this scribble, for I could not withhold my
tribute of respect to the memory of one for whom my affection is equaled only
by the exalted opinion I have ever held for his manly excellence and various
genius.

Currently, a small
gravestone sits in Riga Cemetery, Monroe County, New York, honoring Gleason’s
death. If his earthly remains are buried there, then, at some point, friends
from Rochester journeyed to Gum Springs to claim them.

The whole story leaves behind some unanswered questions. First, why
did the officers of the 5th Corps choose to leave Gleason’s body,
leaving it buried in the graveyard of an old Virginia church? Second, which church was it?
(None of the accounts say.) Third, how did Gleason’s family manage to recover the
remains? I do wonder about the answers.

Regardless, I grimace whenever I contemplate the grueling seventeen-mile
march of June 17, 1863, a trek that killed seventeen men in the 5th Corps.
One of them, Gleason, had only to survive nine more days in order to go home.
Rather than accept the fact that his regiment would be of no practical use in
the upcoming campaign, the army chose to march him to death.

3 comments:

I live very near the village of Arcola (wartime Gum Spring) and drove by it today. The church yard where Gleason was buried is almost certainly the Arcola Methodist Church, which was built in 1853 -- the only church in the tiny village at the time. The chapel has had some additions over the years, but one can still make out the original wartime structure that is so typical of Virginia churches built in the 1850s -- either of brick or clapboard. There is no graveyard associated with the church today so I am assuming his men buried him somewhere near the structure. The wartime Gum Springs Road still traverses through the little village--the same road that the Army of the Potomac took on its march toward Edwards Ferry in late June 1863--although the current path north of Arcola is not the original route.

Much is changing in tiny Arcola. New McMansions are built every month it seems--including dozens of new houses lining the road into the village--and a new massive shopping center is being built a mile down the road, built by the infamous Til Hazel. Some may remember Hazel from the Manassas mall controversy of the late 1980s.

Todd, John Hennessey sent me an image of the church. Thanks for going out there to take a picture of it! . . . I am familiar with Til Hazel's name and reputation. You need not say anything more to conjure up an image of what is happening to Arcola.